


Of Gold and Orange, White and Pink

by Hanatatami



Category: Bleach
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, High School AU, M/M, Probably ooc, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatatami/pseuds/Hanatatami
Summary: Ichigo was so pretty if pissed him off. His kind brown eyes, his soft expressions, his ridiculous orange hair. It was super infuriating and it drove him insanely mad, but he couldn’t help to be entranced, bewitched by him.
Relationships: Hollow Ichigo/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Of Gold and Orange, White and Pink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomethingSomeone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingSomeone/gifts).



> I know that you like Shiroicho, but that are not into the incest/selfcest aspect of it, so I built an entire universe just for you. If you want to have some background before reading you can skip right to the end notes and then come back, if not you can just read it as it is and it won't affect you much!! Happy Birthday in advance!!

“Get in the shade.”

Shiro felt the warmth of the sun being blocked, yet refused to open his eyes, “Don't wanna.”

The day was nice enough, warm yet not too hot, so it felt like such a waste to hide from the sun, now that he could enjoy it properly. 

“Even if it doesn’t feel like it, the UV rays are still quite high today, you know?” Shiro felt the other’s shoe bumping his side slightly, “You might get some serious sunburns.”

Shiro opened his eyes now, looked up, and locked his eyes with Ichigo’s, not bothering to move an inch from where he was laying down.

“Then I guess I’ll get some.”

Ichigo was so pretty if pissed him off. His kind brown eyes, his soft expressions, his ridiculous orange hair that now appeared almost golden with the light shining through it. It made him want to knock him to the floor with him and kiss that stupid mug out of his face.

“If you do get burnt, I’m not going to treat you.” He saw Ichigo smile, eyes narrow and glistening with an idea, and Shiro immediately sat up as if knowing what was coming next, “But it might be a nice look on you. Pink nose and rosy cheeks–”

“I’ll get in the shade.”

They made an odd pair, that was for sure. Shiro wasn’t really sure how they came to be together. Or even get along at all, in all honesty.

But it somehow happened, and it somehow worked, and that was enough. It’s not that he wasn’t curious what was going on on Ichigo’s head once they started going out, really, but Shiro felt that he didn’t want to risk it. That, somehow, he would jinx it if he thought about it too much. That by untangling the thought process himself would somehow make Ichigo realise that Shiro was an awful choice to make. 

And Shiro admitted to himself (although begrudgingly, and to no one else) that he didn’t like the thought of Ichigo leaving. As in, at all.

They were total opposites after all, for much that they looked alike. He, with a nasty personality and punches to spare; Ichigo, surprisingly calm and kind even with his physique and absurd sense of justice.

But he was good at ignoring things, at not thinking about certain things, so Shiro just let it go.

“Shiro,” he heard Ichigo talk behind him, now that he began to move to sit by the chain link fence that surrounded that area of the rooftop.

He hummed as a reply to show that he was listening, and he sat down with his back to one of the pillars.

Ichigo extended a hand to him, palm up, now standing right in front of where we has sitting.

“Give me.”

“What?”

“Sunscreen.”

Shiro frowned, “Why the fuck would I carry sunscreen with me to school?”

And as always, Ichigo just smiled, ignoring the bite of Shiro's words, eyes soft yet knowing, “Because I gave it to you.”

“I’m sure you already know it, so I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, but–”

“I know, I know, I burn easily, and I can get seriously hurt. I shouldn’t risk it. Can you just hurry up with this shit? It’s annoying.” 

Shiro frowned (a natural look on him, to be honest) eyes closed, as he felt Ichigo’s fingers gently spreading the sunscreen on his face. He tried his best not to move– both not to make this more difficult and awkward than it already was, and not to show the other his nervousness.

Ichigo was probably the only person in the world he’d allow to touch him like this. The only one he let call him by that annoyingly mocking name his parents gave him. 

It was super infuriating and it drove him insanely mad, but he couldn’t help to be entranced, bewitched by him, by his selflessness. Even now he felt his dumb blood rushing through his veins and warming up his entire body, as if he were some silly little girl with her first crush or some shit like that. It was the worst, to feel so weak around him.

To be so infatuated with him.

Even now eyes closed and all, Shiro could picture them in his head perfectly. That stupidly pretty, surprised smile Ichigo had when he realised how similar their last names were, when they had just met. That unexpectedly cheerful laugh full of childlike joy that caught Shiro so off guard when he first heard it. 

And he himself felt like a little kid due to the effect that guy had on him. Hands clammy and limbs all jittery, face flushed in colours he never knew his skin could show. So disgustingly warm inside, awfully calm in spite his body, and terrifyingly, well, happy. It was unreal how different the world felt now that he had met him— in an all colours look brighter, all flowers smell sweeter, all songs sing about him kind of way. 

Like life was actually worth the effort, or some shit like that.

Shiro felt Ichigo’s hands stop, and it was gross how much he missed the touch of his tanned skin on his pale one. Shiro opened his eyes and saw Ichigo’s face, now less carefree, a small worried frown formed between his eyebrows. He frowned back, just slightly deepening his usual scowl.

Ichigo, softly and with utmost care, traced the shape of the already healing yellow bruise that hid just under the fabric of Shiro’s uniform shirt, right next to his neck, “How do you keep getting into trouble like this?”

Shiro tries his best to keep his breathing steady, oh so close to failing, “Fuck would I know.”

“You need to take better care of yourself. I mean, I don't mind treating your wounds, it's sort of what I'm studying for, but,” Ichigo sighed and to Shiro’s annoyance, buttoned one of the three undone buttons of Shiro’s shirt collar, “I don't like to see you getting hurt because of silly arguments and petty fights.”

“Shut up. I’ll beat you up.”

Ichigo’s lips quirked up in a smile, just small enough for Shiro to notice it. “You wouldn’t.”

“How can you be so sure? You are making me pretty angry right now, getting all nosy and shit. And without a stick to defend yourself you are weak as fuck.”

“Independently if I could beat you or not, though you do get into a lot of fights,” Ichigo gave him a teasing look, arched one eyebrow, “I know you are not the kind that starts them.”

Shiro clicked his tongue, annoyed at how well Ichigo knew him, how good he was at reading him. He looked away, “Whatever. Why would you bother anyway?”

They remained silent for a second, Shiro finally giving up first and looking up again. He was fully expecting another frown from the other boy, but he was instead met with a kind smile, one of those that always knocked the air out of his lungs. 

“Because I care about you.” Ichigo’s smile widened, and if that’s even possible, Shiro falls for him even more, “Isn’t it normal to worry about the person you like?”

Shiro opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated the process a couple of times, searching for what to say while his heart hammers inside his ribcage.

“Look, if you keep this shit up I'll fucking— steal your tyrosinase.”

It takes a second for Ichigo to decode the words, but when he does he laughs, caught off guard; the sound as big and warm and bright as the sun over them, even in the shade. It made Shiro's heart clench and feel so small and defenseless, break all his walls in a way that was awfully, awfully scary.

“I don't—” Ichigo took a second to catch his breath, “I don't think I've ever heard you tell a joke before.”

“Keep up with that sappy shit and you'll never hear another one again.”

“Mean.” His body relaxes with his expression, leaning back slightly so his weight rests on both his arms that he was using as support. The elegant yet seemingly so delicate curve of Ichigo’s body stirred something inside Shiro, and he cursed in his head, “Even though I like you so much—”

Shiro stammered, his usual barriers long ago broken and discarded, “Are your ears fucking broken or what?!”

Ichigo chuckled, smiled even wider, so fucking pleased with himself, “Guess you don’t need sunburns to get all flushed, huh.”

Ichigo threw his head back and laughed that stupidly beautiful laugh of his, and that was all that Shiro needed to know that he must look as red as his skin can allow, his frown so deep he can even feel it.

He crossed his arms and waited for Ichigo’s laugh to finish.

“Sorry, sorry,” Catching his breath, Ichigo wiped the tears that were forming in his eyes, “Please, don’t look at me like that, Shiro—”

Before he could continue, Shiro took the front of Ichigo’s uniform into his fist, and pulled him closer— Shiro brought his lips to his own, and kissed him. Ichigo flinched at first, but soon relaxed, making Shiro feel more daring. He deepened the kiss, savouring the small gasp Ichigo lets out once their tongues meet (a small victory for him, he said to himself). He let his tongue wonder, tilted his head to fit better with the other; his body shivers just like every single time they’ve kissed, and the gesture is just as velvet soft, safely warm, sickly sweet as before, too.

Shiro felt ridiculously proud when, pulling away from Ichigo, he saw a blush setting on the other’s cheeks that could even rival his own. Another small victory he can enjoy in his head.

Still, Ichigo didn’t lose his composure, and as naturally as breathing, he just smiled; he let out the smallest of laughs, a breathless giggle; he said, almost a whisper, “What was that for?”

Shiro shrugged, his best attempt at trying to act calm and unconcerned, “Just felt like it.” He tilted his face to the opposite side now, carefully studied the soft scattering of colour that rested on Ichigo’s cheekbones and nose, “Y’know, sometimes I forget you got freckles.”

“Well,” Ichigo raised his hand to touch his own face, apparently feeling self-conscious all of the sudden. He gave up and let his hand fall, shrugged a still carefree shrug, “I am a redhead after all.”

Shiro’s finger traced the vague path that travelled from Ichigo’s jawline, to his neck, to his collarbone - clavicle, Ichigo once told him it was called. His fingers chased those faint stars that hid just on top of Ichigo’s warm, rich skin; his hand ventured to touch the place where Ichigo’s chest and shoulder met, warm and hidden by the white dress shirt of his uniform— he heard Ichigo gasp at the contact, and a sudden question popped up on Shiro’s head.

“I wonder—”

The abrupt ring of the school bell took him aback, made him pull away, hand now somehow both colder and scorching hot. 

Ichigo looked back at the door that led them to the rooftop in the first place. He said, voice almost too steady, “We— We should go back. To class.”

It used to make him feel stupid, to be so flustered while the other remained so frustratingly calm, but Shiro knew. In moments such as that was when he knew it best. He knew that they were both a mess of blushed faces and insecure hands and restless thoughts, that Ichigo was just better at hiding it than he was.

Ichigo stood up, and he followed suit. Shiro dusted his pants with his hands, saw with the corner of his eye how Ichigo started to walk away and towards the door. 

Shiro took two long steps, enough to catch up to him, and took Ichigo’s hand on his.

Ichigo gave him a puzzled look, and Shiro nodded in direction to the school building, “Just while we walk down the stairs.”

The other simply stated, voice smiling and sweet and kind, “So clingy.”

Ichigo squeezed his hand softly, and Shiro eagerly squeezed back, trying his best to make his voice as full of yearning and affection and tenderness as Ichigo’s always sounded when talking to him.

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Though I am a Bleach fan since I was like 8, I’m not part of the Bleach fandom and I don’t participate in the community, so if I happen to overlap with some other writer’s ideas, I apologise beforehand, I didn’t mean to copy!
> 
> -This is a high school AU where everyone is happy :9 Both Ichigo and Shiro are probably seniors, and while Ichigo has gone to that school since the beginning of his high school years, Shiro is probably a transfer since the beginning of their last one.  
> -Shiro is albino. His given name is actually Shiro, though he hates it because it sounds like a joke due to his appearance. His last name is probably some weird kanji that can be read Kurosaki, too, though it’s normally read differently. He probably doesn’t have black sclera because that would be too much.  
> -Ichigo is your regular high-school student. He’s probably studying to become a doctor and take care of his father’s clinic. He has freckles because I felt like it, though they are not visible until you get like really close to his face. He and Shiro share the same classroom.  
> -They’ve been dating for like a semester or something because I lack talent to do anything but an established relationship. It’s a secret though, so no-one really knows (Ichigo has probably told some close friends I guess, he feels like the type who wouldn’t like to keep those sort of secrets if asked).  
> -Shiro is in the going-home club, and often skips class in the rooftop of the main school building (off limits). I guess Ichigo wanted to join a sport club like soccer or something of the like but got asked by the kendo club to join because they needed more members so he joined that one instead. It turns out he’s an incredibly talented swordsman so he’s been doing pretty well on it.
> 
> That's it! Thanks to anyone else who gave this story a chance, too! And again, Happy Birthday me friend ily!!


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